


Forged in the White Hot Flame

by quicksylver28



Series: Little Black Dress - Works in Sentinel Fandom [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Sentinel
Genre: Bucky and Jarvis are Bros, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Jarvis uses emoji, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 23:24:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7661212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksylver28/pseuds/quicksylver28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Upon the Anvil of Eternity and picks up right where that one left off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

[](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/Ziela_Hime/media/RT-2016-LBD-2-C_zps0qbrlzm0.gif.html)

As Fate would have it, because she'd made Tony Stark her bitch from long since when, just as he and Steve had completed their Sentinel/Guide bonding with a scorching hot kiss that was definitely leading to some scorching hot sex right there on his workshop table; the call to assemble came through the overhead speakers.

"Cunt licking son of a fucking cock" Tony snarled, the fist of his Iron Man suit punching a large hole in the unfortunate Doombot closest to him. The thing let out a weak screech and fell from the sky with a heavy crunch against New York asphalt. He quickly blasted two more to smithereens and, with a graceful flip in the air, kicked hard at another, leaving a huge dent in its casing. It beeped shrilly and tried to move away but he followed it up with another kick and a repulsor shot from his boot jet.

He'd been keeping up a string of curses ever since Jarvis reported sighting Victor von Doom near the Baxter building and since the fantastic four was currently at the ass end of space, it had been up to the avengers to sweep out the trash. Tony and Falcon had taken to the skies, knocking the bots to the ground where Cap and Widow made sure they stayed there. Bucky was back at the tower playing Overwatch with Jarvis until he could be cleared for field work. It stung Barnes not being able to provide backup but he wasn't ready yet to be a full-fledged Avenger.

He grabbed one bot, swinging it like a bat as he took out three more and as he kept hitting them down, so they kept on coming.

"Goddamn fucking Doom and his fucking army of fucking, scrap metal, cyber dildos." he growled, taking out a bot that had been sneaking up on Falcon. "What the fuck is Doom doing in New York anyways? The Swiss Family Richards is God knows where among the stars, the Torch is burning his way through mountains of pussy in Ibiza and the Thing's stomping around the jungles with Tigra."

He double kicks a doom bot in the back, riding it to the ground with a thud, crushing in its torso with the weight of his suit before jetting back up to the roof tops where Doom himself stands, a dozen bots in formation around him.

" I mean… " Tony rants on, smashing into the first, taking out the second and third as Falcon took down the fourth, "…You didn't come with enough shitbots to make kind of serious play for power or provide any kind of suitable distraction for clandestine operations you may be perpetrating elsewhere and you of all people, would know better than any of us the whereabouts of the Awesome Foursome so … Victor… Vicky Boy…. Victoria's Secret…. I must ask the question… "

He rips the head off the bot nearest to him, taking out another with a well-aimed curve ball. 

"Why are you even here at ass o'clock at night… other than for shits and giggles that is?"

Two more bots lose their heads to repulsor blasts and a third gets batted down to street level wear it gets cut in half with a vibranium shield. 

Doom strikes a menacing pose. "DOOM KNOWS ABOUT YOUR GOVERNMENT'S PLANS TO PROPOSE MORE U.N. SANCTIONS ON LATVERIA…"

"Really?" Tony sneered, "…. Really Victor Victoria? That is what you're going with? For fucks sake. That doesn't even make sense in Super Villain Logic… and that shit is seriously fucked up. You couldn't come up with anything better? Anything at all? Even the piss poor excuse of trying to kidnap Sue Richards is way more believable than this bullshit."

He smashes two bots together, flinging them away as they sparked and exploded.

"Let's not pretend anymore shall we? We all know you've been using your ongoing obsession with poor Sue as a beard because what you really want in your deepest, darkest heart of hearts is to get your grabby hands on Reed's rubber dick even he won't even touch you tincan with a ten foot pole… or his ten foot shlong if it even stretches that long. Which, you know, if it does… kinky, I don't judge. Who knows, maybe Sue is into that freaky bondage shit. I wonder if she calls him Stretch Cockstrong in the bedroom."

"Jesus Christ, Stark" Barnes chortles softly over the comms as Steve heaves a great sigh.

"YOU DARE IMPUNE DOOM'S REPUTATION WITH SUCH VILE ACCUSATIONS."

Tony scowls, ripping out a bot's power source from its chest, crushing it in his fist while the rest of the bot crumples and falls away. He lands with a heavy thud on the gravel roof top and brings his arms up in the classic iron man pose.

"Ironman fucking dares to kick Doom's ass straight back to Latveria if Doom doesn't take his fucking mediocre, narcissistic, unimaginative, assembly line, shit can excuses for robots out of Ironman's City before Ironman shoves his iron fist up Doom's metal asshole… and not in a good way either."

"DOOM HAS DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY."

"That doesn't make a lick of difference when I can just kick your ass six ways from Sunday and claim bond interference with the SnG Centre. You are currently committing bond interference of an Alpha Sentinel of the Tribe of New York City. I could fucking peel open that suit from your body like a fucking banana and stomp on your shriveled up gonads then turn around and claim a feral episode because you sought to harm my Guide with your pitiful excuse for robotic incursion. They wouldn't give me a slap on the wrist for putting you in traction."

"YOU WOULD NOT..." Doom took a step back.

Tony flipped up his face plate and bared his teeth in a snarl, his repulsors whining as they powered up. "Try me Cunt Face."

Falcon landed next to Ironman and could only gape as Doom and his bots retreated in a cloud of robotic butt hurt.

"Holy Shit Stark. I've never seen anybody shut down Doom so fast in my life."

"I had unique motivation." Tony nodded to the flyer and boosted off the roof towards the street. "Status Cap?"

"Uh… All clear down here I guess."

"Good. Incoming. Prepare for transport. Widow, Falcon see about this mess would you? Don't forget to play nice with the kiddies from SHIELD 2.0 ok? Daddy loves ya baby."

Captain America barely has time to settle his shield on his back when his lifted off his feet with a high pitched yelp. It takes thirteen point two seconds to get back to the tower and Steve can just breathe again when the armor dissembles and he's dragged past a widely smirking Bucky by his shoulder strap.


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you even know..”

Steve is slammed against the inside of Tony’s bedroom door. His shield hits it with a clang so he reaches back and unclamps it, throwing it away from him and halfway into the adjacent wall with a crunch.

“… how very difficult it was…”

Nimble fingers make quick work of Steve’s buckle, his utility belt thudding to the floor. He experiences a moment of regret when the zipper of his uniform pants is torn open, the little zipper thingy snapping off with a pop but the moment is gone as his underwear is pulled down and his cock springs forth into the chill if the air.

“… to pilot the suit with a raging hard on?”

Steve decides that the question must have been rhetorical because a split second later a hot mouth swallows his cock whole and he loses all semblance of speech. His gloved fingers scramble for purchase along the wall, finally finding the door handle as he presses his shoulders back against the door and jerks his hips forward into the sucking heat.

He lets out a strangled groan, bucking wildly until hands reach up to grip his hips, pressing them back against the wall and keeping them there. A rough tongue licks up the vein on the underside of his cock and it twitched violently, a spurt of pre-cum shooting form the slit into a waiting mouth. 

“Fucking doom. Seriously, what does a man have to do to suck a goddamned cock around here?”

The growled words are a hot breath against his spit slick cock and he has to bite his fist to stop the truly obscene and sinful noises that have been pouring from his mouth. One hand stays on his hip while another comes up to fondle his balls, the hot mouth swallowing him to the root once again. His hips buck again and he yelps when the hand still on his hip pinches the bare skin there … hard. 

He watches the little red welt fade and does his best to keep his butt planted against the wall. The mouth ventures forth once again and the sucking wipes rational thought from his mind. Lips press against the root of his cock ad a nose presses into his pubic hair and he trembles with the effort to stay completely still.

Nimble fingers caress his balls, rolling and squeezing them as the tongue laps at the slit of his penis, licking and humming at the steady flow of pre-cum dribbling from the sensitive cock head. Steve tries and fails to regulate his breathing the wicked tongue licks a path down the side of his throbbing shaft and mouths at his balls.

“Hmmmm so good. I’ve been wanting to taste this since I met you. You smell so fucking good.”

The voice is low and almost and animalistic growl. Steve’s cock jumps and he shudders at the power in it. The desire. The hunger. He felt like prey, like food, like a feast laid out for the taking. He pressed his hot cheek against the door with a whimper as the unrelenting mouth worshiped one of his balls and then the next, the hand that had been fondling them reaching further back to gently scratch trimmed nails along his perineum.

Steve made a sound Jarvis would later describe as a dying moose and thumped the back of his head against the door. A dark chuckle reached his ears as the mouth took his cock whole once more. This time was different though. Instead of hot and wicked teasing, there were long strokes, steady and strong. 

The rough tongue traced the pulsing vein along the underside as the pace slowly increased, a slick hand following the soft ring of lips that bobbed up and down his shaft. This was an onslaught. This was a siege. Steve was being over whelmed. He was being over run. His walls were falling, his gates were breaking. He was being laid to waste.

He groaned out each breath from his diaphragm, grunting deeply, wantonly as the lips and hand formed an inescapable vacuum that was sucking his brains out through his dick. He thought that this was the moment people usually start calling on God for mercy but he couldn't seem to string two words together much less get them from his brain past his thrumming vocal chords.

His fingers sunk into thick brown hair, not guiding, just holding on for dear life while his world came apart and he really thought he’d go under is he didn't hold on to something. The pace picked up and his breath came out in short painful huffs as his lungs strained for air.

A growling throat vibrated around his cock and the hand on his dick gave a twist with each pump, tipping him over into sharp piercing ecstasy that stole his breath completely and whitened his vision. He was barely aware of a loud cracking sound as he jerked his hips and gave a loud and desperate cry as he came and came and came forever.

He came back to his senses in a trembling heap on the floor in front of the door. A hot hand was still pumping his cock, the twitching organ attempting valiantly to shoot the last of its cum into a hot, greedy mouth. Steve struggled to breath, chest heaving against his uniform as he tried to kick start his higher brain functions.

He looked down at a head of brown hair, the glimpse of a pink tongue licking his cock and he had to look away lest he faint from lack of oxygen. He turned to the side and sees his hand fisted around a broken and heavily dented door handle. He lets the crushed metal go and it hits the carpet with a muffled thump.

Stick a fork in him. He’s done.

Tony sits up, licking swollen red lips with a self satisfied hum. “That was delicious.”

Steve whimpers as Tony wipes a bit of cum from his cheeks with his thumb and then sticks it in his sinful mouth, sucking it clean. Steve makes a soft needy sound and dark eyes spear him in place. This wasn't Tony - billionaire playboy genius philanthropist, no… this was Tony Stark - Level 6 Alpha Sentinel and he was on the prowl- ready to devour Steve, body and soul.

Steve, feeling either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, reached up to wipe a bit of cum from Tony’s other cheek, dark eyes watching as he pressed his thumb against those swollen lips. A hand gripped his gently as that rough hot tongue sucked his thumb in, licking it clean.

Steve cock jumped at the sight of it, the feel of it. He wondered idly if he’d ever be able to look at his own thumb again without getting a bit hard. He dismissed the thought as Tony reached down to palm his own throbbing erection.

Steve swallowed and struggled to find the right words to string together an actual sentence that made sense to other people then struggled harder to get those words out of his head and out of his mouth. Great God above this talking business was hard as shit.

“D…do… youwantmeto…?” he gestured at Tony’s erection.

Steve saw danger n Tony’s slow smile and blushed hot as Tony took his hand, pulled off his uniform glove and pressed Steve’s palm against his hot hard-on, still encased inside of his Ironman under suit. Tony got to his feet slowly and he was just tall enough that Steve’s face was up front and personal with his straining erection. 

Tony looked down at Steve and growled low in his chest. He ran a calloused thumb against Steve’s pink bitten and bruised lips and trembled minutely.

“Oh love…” he held a steady hand to help pull Steve up. He pressed Steve back up against the wall and tiptoed to speak softly into his ear, his hot breath just below Steve’s ear sending shivers down his spine. 

“… when I come, it’ going to be deep inside this killer ass of yours Amado”

Tony reached around and grabbed two handfuls of Steve’s criminally gorgeous ass.

“You up for that babe?” his lips brushed Steve’s as he spoke.

“Yeah…” Steve gulped, his cock already half hard and jumping. He nods. “I’m up for that.”

………………………………………….

Toy took his time undressing his guide. Taking off his uniform piece by piece and laying a pliant Steve out on the bed like someone had breathed life into Michelangelo’s David. Steve’s open gaze and flawless body made him look like the young man he was and something in Tony clenched at the sight; knowing that he was seeing something very few had ever witnessed.

This was Steve Rogers with his barriers down. This was Steve Rogers in the raw, distilled down to his very essence and laid out in offering to Tony. He felt exhilarated and humbled at the same time. The blow job at the door had been to take the edge off, to slake the ravenous hunger that bubbled and boiled under his ribs. He’d fallen upon Steve like a staving man.

This time though, would be different. This time he had enough wherewithal to savour Steve like a fine wine, savour his guide like a feast spread out before him. To be suckled and nibbled, licked and opened wide and fucked into until his need was sated. Until Steve’s needs were sated.

He started at the toes, moving up his guide’s body, exploring vast planes of smooth skin, discovering the hidden spots and zones that had Steve crying out, thrusting up, almost weeping or laughing. He grounded himself on his guide, gorging himself on the taste and smell of his lover, the steady beat of his heart that raced whenever Tony nipped at his inner thighs or sucked a hickey into the small of his back, the bruise fading within minutes.

He murmured endearments to Steve in rough guttural Spanish that had the blond’s toes curling as hot breath touched his bare skin. Steve was writhing with need by the time Tony had him slicked up and squirming on three fingers.

“Ready Amado?” 

Steve’s chest heaved as he nodded shakily, his hand gripping the headboard above his head. He lifted his legs ad spread them wide and Tony’s heart stuttered.

“Madre de Dio”

Sinking into that hot tight place was like being born again from the flames. He as no longer what he once was. He wasn't just Tony anymore. He was TonyandSteve, just like Steve was now SteveandTony. He was complete.

Once he was fully seated he had to still his hips lest he cum within the next few seconds. No, he had to make his guide feel good first. He had to show his guide the same stars that burst across his eyes whenever Steve gave himself up to the throes of passion.

He rocked into Steve, little breathy noises punched out of the blond’s chest as Tony worked his hips. He lengthened the strokes, grunting as Steve’s whimpers turned into groans that soon ran together into a long rambling moan. Tony raised Steve’s legs around his waist and changed his angle, his deeper thrusts driving a wail out of his lover. 

Steve thrashed his head from side to side, his strong back and trim waist arching into the strokes. Tears of pleasure leaked from his eyes, his pupils dilated fully, only a thin ring of blue visible. The head board creaked and cracks from where Steve held on for dear life, his mouth hanging open but no sound coming out. 

Tony upped his pace, on hand coming up to stroke Steve’s weeping erection, angry and red as it bobbed against his abs. Tony gave the swollen head a squeeze and a twist and Steve arched up with a cry as he came, his shoulders the only thing touching the bed as his legs tightened around Tony’s waist. Stripe after stripe of thick creamy cum splattered across Steve’s golden skin, hitting his abs, his chest and even under his jaw.

Tony pushed himself back on his knees and used his hands to guide his trembling lover back unto the sheets. As Steve rode the aftershocks of his orgasm, Tony guided Steve’s legs unto his shoulders and started thrusting once again, each thrust greeted with a breathy moan from his guide. As he thrust, he ran his hands up Steve’s chest, smearing cum over Steve’s nipples as he tweaked and tugged on the rock hard nubs.

His pace grew a bit staccato ad he growled as he came hard and buried himself to the hilt in Steve’s hot squeezing hole. He pumped a few times into Steve’s ass, pulling out to stripe a few splashes on his lover’ chest then pushing into Steve again, fulling up his guide’s clenching asshole.

Most of the after glow is spent between licking Steve clean and rubbing his cum at all the different scent points of a guides body. Steve is pliant beneath him, happy and sated, drowsy with pleasure. He kisses Tony all sloppy and wet, stretching and moaning as Tony touches him all over. 

Soon there is no part of Steve’s body that Tony hasn't touched, scented, tasted. He knows the beat of Steve’s heart like he knows his own. He knows Steve’s sleepy snorts, his satisfied hums, his kittenish whimpers as shifts his abused ass. He knows the way Steve’s blood rushes through his arteries, how Steve’s breathing evens out as he falls into sleep.

He knows Steve. He knows his Guide. 

Seven billion people on planet earth and he knows his guide apart from them all.

He knows him and he loves him. His guide.

His Steve.

................................


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky was bored. It was not the ‘nothing to do’ kind of bored but more of a ‘not really interested in getting up off his duff to do any particular thing’ kind of bored. Jarvis was playing Mars Attacks on the large screen TV in the common area but Bucky had seen it before so the novelty had already worn off. 

He didn't feel like telling Jarvis to put something different on because he really didn't want to engage his brains cells enough to follow an actual plot. Mars Attacks had just enough space ships and aliens to snag his attention and jut enough of a premise to be entertaining. 

He slumped further into the corner of the plush sectional and hugged an overstuffed cushion closer, rubbing its soft covering against his cheek. Jarvis had darkened the windows to cut glare but beyond the heavy glass, the sun shone bright and hot over New York and it had been approximately twelve hours since Stark had epically threatened to kick Doom’s junk into a trunk and ship it off to part unknown and then dragged Stevie off to his cave by the hair. Well… by the shoulder strap anyway. 

Bucky giggled like a school girl at the memory of the gob smacked look on Steve’s face a he was being tugged towards ground zero. Forget about fondue… Stevie boy was getting rode hard and put up wet. Bucky was fairly certain that Stark was pretty much a sure thing. Those skin tight under suits he wore left nothing at all to the imagination. 

So unless some other super villain decided to pop out of the wood work, Steve was totally getting laid. Then again he was 90% sure Stark would have had Jarvis just pilot the suit into dropping a bomb on the bad guys asses and blaming it on a gas leak or something. 

Or hacking the military and calling in an air strike. 

Either way, a pissed off and horny Tony Stark was not someone you wanted to run into in a ark alley …. or in New York City air space. Or anywhere else for that matter. 

Bucky had woken up to a deserted tower. Sam had slept in late and then headed down to visit the local VA for some Sam time. Shield Reboot had flown in to take care the doom bot litter and Clintasha had gone off clintasha-ing somewhere while Coulson checked in briefly then fucked off to parts unknown. 

Tony’s floor was no entry – as in ‘big honking red lights and spools of yellow caution tape’ no entry, until one or both eventually ventured out for supplies, having depleted the stocks in Tony’s personal kitchen. Bucky had been working on his sensory level dials and had been able to turn down his hearing and smell lest he be driven mad by the sensory input from the penthouse even though Jarvis had assured him that the air was being cycled continually. 

He wasn’t sure how he really felt about Stevie bonding with Stark. From what he could piece together from brief snatches of past memories, ever since they’d been kids, Bucky had been there for Steve as he waited to come online. Having been born a normie in a family chock-a-block with the gifted, he’d known keenly how it felt to be different… set apart. And for the first time since he’d reconciled himself to life as a normie, teenaged Bucky had wished that he could have been born a sentinel who could be a match to Steve’s guide. 

Leaving for the war had been brutal. His first few weeks of training passed with half his mind on how low Steve had been acting when he left, losing his ma and then Bucky on top of aging out prime age group for coming online. 

Then Steve had appeared again, taller than before and built like a brick shit house and so online, he fucking shone like a beacon amidst the grey drudgery of world war II. Then the commandos and the fall where he’d left Stevie alone once gain, losing himself in the process as well. Fucking Hydra and their fucking genetics experiments could go fuck themselves on zombie snake dicks in the ninth level of hell. 

Bucky heaved a great sigh and flopped over to his other side. Punching the cushion a couple of times to shape it properly. He may not like Stark like he loved Stevie boy but he could recognize the way they suited each other. They balanced each other. Their personalities and temperaments did not drown the other out. And even though, against all odds, his teenage wish had come true and he’d managed to become a sentinel all these years later, he still wasn’t the one bonding with Steve right now. 

The truth was, he knew that as a bonded pair, he and Steve would implode in some spectacular fashion because they were just too close as brothers, too much alike, too stubborn and bull headed to give way; but some part of him still snuggled with the idea in the shadows of his mind like some happy day dream. Right now though, he was really too fucked up to be any kind of worthwhile sentinel. Hell he was sure he’d be dormant right now if Hydra hadn’t perverted nature and forced him online. 

What guide could he ever put through that nightmare? 

He huffed and rolled over, hugging the cushion like a body pillow. Jarvis’ voice came from over head. 

“Mr. Barnes… Mr. Barnes” 

Bucky looked up, unable to stop doing that whenever Jarvis spoke. He sat up hastily. 

“Yeah Jarvis… what is it? Is something wrong with Steve? Stark?” 

“No Mr. Barnes. Sir and Captain Rogers are not in any danger. I was concerned when you would not respond to my hails for the last forty seven point fur seconds.” 

Bucky fell back unto the couch with a sigh. “Sorry J, I dialed down my hearing a bit so as to give the happy couple some privacy that’s all. Not supposed to be by much but its not something I’ve learned how to do well yet. 

“ Very well. Shall I change the movie to another selection Mr. Barnes?” 

Bucky shrugged. “Nah, I’m just not that interested in watching TV I guess. Kinda bored to be honest.” 

“Very well sir…” there was a minute long pause, “…may I suggest something Mr. Barnes?” 

Bucky let his head fall back against the back of the couch. “Fire away my good man.” 

Jarvis spoke carefully. “There are certain protocols in place within my coding to provide alternative means of communications to the hearing impaired. Sir has tweaked the programming somewhat when Agent Romanov moved into the tower” 

“Really?” Bucky blinked. 

“Yes. Agent Romanov sometimes activates protocol ‘Girl Time’ where she dials her hearing down to everything except for a water feature in her quarters. In the past few months she has come to trust me enough to ‘have her back’ as Agent Barton puts it. I would be happy to open a new sub-routine under your specific needs.” 

Bucky smiled. “Wow, thanks Jarvis. Could you give me a demonstration.” 

“Of course”. A blinking cursor appeared on the ceiling and on several glass surfaces within Bucky’s line of sight. The words ‘Hello Mr. Barnes’ appeared in light the same colour blue as Tony’s arc reactor. 

“Nice” Bucky nodded, chuckling as ‘Thank You’ floated past. 

They were went through the various prompts and symbols Jarvis used for Natasha when Bucky asked.

“Hey Jarvis, you ever use those smiley faces Sam uses on his phone. Sometimes Barton’s texts are filled with the stuff.” 

“You are referring to emoji, Mr. Barnes, a set of small digital icons used to communicate ideas or emotions over digital media” 

A small yellow blob with googly eyes and a smile flashed on the ceiling and Bucky laughed. 

“I like those. Can we use them?” 

“I shall endeavor to understand the subtle nuances of determining which image suits the message I want to convey but it may be slow going as my programming dos not contain the inherent human emotions usually utilized for such decisions.” 

Bucky shrugged, letting his hair fall in his face. “Many people think I don’t have any human emotions either. Maybe we can learn together?.” 

“That would certainly be amenable Mr. Barnes.” A yellow smiley face and a hand giving an ok sign flashes and Bucky chuckles. 

“Call me Bucky.” He grins up at the ceiling. 

“It would be my pleasure … Bucky” the little yellow blob is tipping a top hat and Bucky barks a laugh, jumping up from the couch and tossing the cushion aside. 

“I like you J. I think that you and me are gonna be good friends. Let’s go see what trouble we can get into yeah?” 

A hand giving a thumb up sign flashes Bucky gives a whoop, heading down to his room to get cleaned up. 

……………………………………………. 

 

“What the fuck is going on in here?”

Bucky froze at the growled words, crushing the egg he’d been trying to crack using his metal hand. Yolk ran down his arm as he slowly turned to face and scowling Tony Stark. Stark was wearing a thin black vest and sweats slung low on his hips. His hair was a riot of wild curls on his head and his usually sharp beard was looking a bit scruffy.

Bucky felt like a deer in headlights. The last time he’d been face to face with Stark for more than a few seconds had been when he’d punched the man and dislocated his nose. That had been the day of the big reveal that Hydra had been even more depraved than previously imagined.

He had yet to have the same confrontation with the alpha that he’d had with Natasha – the pack’s enforcer, and he didn’t want their pack relationship to start off on a bad note. He looked around him at the state of the kitchen and winced. 

He and Jarvis had been throwing around ideas on what to do when he’d had a craving for Original Ebinger’s famous Brooklyn Black Out cake. He remembered him and Steve scraping their money together to buy a slice for their moms for mother’s day. The four of them had sat around the Barnes’ sad kitchen table and nibbled on tiny forkful’s of the delicious cake, pretending that they were in some high brow joint like real rich folks.

He’d been dismayed at hearing that they’d closed in 1978 but had been buoyed by the fact that the recipe was available online. Without a moment to lose he’d booked it to the local farmer’s market for the stuff they needed that the tower didn’t already have in stock. 

A couple dozen ingredients later, seven bowls, thirteen spoons and multiple steps later, he just slid the cakes into the oven and was working on the filling. He’d also covered most of the horizontal and some of the vertical surfaces with chocolate, flour and other baking supplies. It looked like a war zone. A delicious warzone.

He gestured at Stark’s once spotless kitchen and shrugged “I’m gonna clean it up… I swear”

Starks brow furrowed and his scowl deepened. He folded his arms across his chest, making his biceps flex and bulge. 

“I’m not talking about the mess. I have staff for that. I also want a piece of whatever that is you’re making because we could smell it from the penthouse and it smells like heaven. No... I’m asking what the fuck is that!”

Bucky follows his pointed finger to the glass display where a kitten emoji with heart eyes, a captain America shield, a birthday cake and a honey pot floated.

“Are those fucking emojis? Why is my highly intelligent, one of a kind learning AI with the capacity for learning every spoken and written language on earth and some extinct ones, communicating in glorified dingbat fonts?”

Jarvis cut in before Bucky could try to wrap his brain around an answer that sounded mature and faintly adult-like.

“Mr. Barnes and I were determining the parameters for his personal protocol of visual communication in case his hearing is somehow impaired or dialed down to low to hear my vocal signals. We have been trying to see if we could convey more complex ideas through these digital icons.”

Tony swipes a finger down the side of a bowl of left over batter and sticks it in his mouth, nodding to the current screen. “What does that mean then?”

Bucky looks at the icons again and huffs a soft laugh. “It means that Jarvis is a sass monster.”

“Ain’t that the truth though” Tony’s face relaxes into a smile. He pours a cup of coffee from the fancy coffee maker in the corner and gestures with the mug at the emojis. 

“Ok… I’ll bite… what do those mean then? I’m thinking either you’re the kitty making some sweet cake for the good captain or I’m the cat and Steve’s the honey pot who’s packing some serious cake.”

“Steve’s the what with what now?” Steve mumbled, as he shuffled into the common area. 

He had on a pair of ripped jeans that fit so snug that Bucky could see the outline of his dick. He was shirtless and his hair stuck out in blond tufts that made him look like one of those twinks on gay porn websites. Not that Bucky went to those kinds of sites *cough cough* or even know what the word twink even meant. 

Really.

No… really.

Tony smirked into his mug. “Jarvis and Bucky were discussing your ass and how it rates in levels of fuckability.”

Jarvis cut in coolly. “I assure you Captain Rogers that Mr. Barnes and I were in no way seeking to objectify you in a sexual manner and whatever Sir may infer from a sequence of harmless icons is influenced by his own mindset alone.”

Tony set down his mug with a sharp clack. “Did I just get thrown under the bus? Jarvis did you just throw me under the bus?”

Bucky traded a wary glance with a befuddled looking Steve, wondering just when this situation had gone off the fucking rails. 

“I was merely seeking to clarify the context of the situation to Captain Rogers before he strains any muscles by jumping to conclusions.” Jarvis intones like digital butter wouldn't melt in his virtual mouth.

Oh snap. Bucky had to turn his face away and bite his lip to keep from laughing. BAMF Jarvis for the win.

Stark sat frozen at the raised bar with an inscrutable look on his face for long enough that Bucky started to fidget nervously only for Tony to burst into loud guffaws, clutching his belly as he gasped for breath.

“Oh my God J, I love you babe. Daddy is so proud of you…” he wipes a tear from his eye, “… That’s my boy!”

“Is there really cake though?” Steve asked, still a bit confused as he scratched absently at his perfectly cut abs and watched as Stark continued to wheeze against the counter.

Bucky relaxed and smiled fondly at his brother from anther mother. “There will be.”


	4. Chapter 4

[](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/Ziela_Hime/media/RT%20LEBD%20CLINTASHA_zpscxw6lelo.jpg.html)

"So let me get this straight… "

Clint huffed as he passed the soapy sponge along the curve of Natasha's bare back. He tucked her wet hair around to her front so that he could gently scrub along her shoulders.

"Not only did Hydra hi-jack Barnes life and keep him on ice like some death flavoured freezer pop but they also fucked with his DNA, making him the first not naturally born sentinel in the history of forever?"

Natasha hummed, letting the hot water of the shower beat upon her face and chest. She shrugged soapy shoulders. "Studies have shown that mundanes who come from heavily enhanced blood lines often have minute traces of SnG genes in their DNA, just not enough to be activated so in some ways, they claim that we all have the potential to be Sentinels and Guides. "

"Bullshit" Clint snorted. "…both for Barnes sake and about that fucking quack research. Those hacks in Prague love to romanticize the enhanced and end up circumventing actual scientific fact to do so. Having SnG abilities doesn't rely solely on DNA for activation but is a complex petri dish of chemical reactions in the brain that only happens in 1 out of 80 people and that's only in cases of being latent. Coming online entails a myriad of extra sensory input and physical circumstances. Fuck, humans have a lot in common with frogs genetically, that doesn't make me want to go live in a swamp and eat flies."

He chuckled "… not those kinds of flies anyway."

Natasha turns her head and pins him with a speculative look. Clint blushes and ducks his head.

"The vents above Bruce's lab make a great shortcut between the gym and the kitchen. Great to take a nap in too. Bruce likes to mutter as he works."

Natasha nods in agreement, turning around under the water to rinse her back. She rests her arms on Clint's broad shoulders as he starts to soap her front, his hands caressing her breasts as she leans her forehead against his and breathes deep. Her body aches from the battle with Doom, the clean up afterwards and spending the next few hours putting the fear of Thor into the new baby agents of SHIELD. 

Coming off the high of battle, wearing her full Black Widow gear she'd swaggered through the levels of the Shield 'Bus' completing the trifecta of Phil's cool command, Clint's manic competence and her enigmatic sensuality. They'd been jumping out of the way with soft squeaks as she stalked the halls and she'd bitten back a smile at the sight. 

She'd ended up sparring with Melinda May and it was just as she'd remembered from the days just after Clint had brought her in. Coulson had Just become her handler and she'd still held belief in the notion that he would soon come to her to satisfy his sexual needs.

Her handlers had often done so in and after her time at the Red Room. She had seen May as a possible female rival and would often fight viciously in their spars. But they didn't call May 'the Cavalry' for nothing and more often than not she would have Natasha on the mat, out of breath and burning with shame and anger.

It had taken years of gentle handling by the Coulson/Barton tag team for her to be able to see May for who she really was. A confident, competent, fucking BADASS woman in a male dominated field. Grudging respect turned into professional comradery as she was sent on more and more missions with the other woman. They would never be the best of girlfriends but between the both of them and Maria Hill, they built a good example for other ambitious female agents coming up through the system.

The almost fifty minutes spar had garnered a crowd of almost every newbie agent on the bus and most of Coulson's inner team who gawped at the speed and grace with which the two women danced about the mat. After working up a good sweat, Natasha had felt pumped on endorphins, beckoning to Clint when May finally tagged out.

If Romanov/May where awe inspiring then Romanov/Barton was mind blowing. Years of training together, fighting together, practically being in each other's pockets made the synergy between them sing as their bodies moved in deadly unison. It had been spectacular to witness. 

Afterwards, as she walked off the mat towards Phil, who'd been leaning against the bulk head toward the back of the room, she felt flushed and content, her body aching in all the good ways she's attached to achievement and mission success.

While the newbie still buzzed about the impromptu demonstration, Phil expertly herded both her and Clint to one of his favourite hole in the wall dives where they stuffed their faces with thick seasoned fries and fat juicy burgers that ran down the chin and hands, straight down to the elbows.

Coulson then dropped them off at the tower and left to see to the final stages of clean up and PR. Natasha, high off endorphins and fully sated hunger, had dragged Clint to her suite, flipping the locks and the white noise generator before shoving him down unto the bed. 

Clint grinned and shucked his uniform pants and boots, his vest and quiver joining the growing pile of clothes on the floor as he sling shot his underwear into a high arch to where it snagged on the doorknob to the bathroom.

He fisted himself slowly, watching her as she stood at the foot of the bed and peeled her jumpsuit from her sweaty body. Her widow's bites and belt were laid on a nearby chair as one doesn't just toss cutting edge Stark tech wherever one pleases. 

Her boots get unfastened and kicked off with a growl as she shimmied out of the second skin undersuit, depressing the little switch Stark built in that loosened the technofibres in the suit that made them mold to her body and added yet another layer of protection to her uniform. It also made gearing up easier because she could slip into the loose pyjama like suit and then let it tailor itself to fit her with a snick and a hiss. 

It was also bulletproof and breathed like Egyptian cotton, both of which she greatly appreciated,.

Clint grunted in appreciation as she pulled down her panties and support bra, another of Tony's inventions that they'd once spent a night drunk inventing while drinking their weight in expensive Russo-Baltique Vodka and bitching about how difficult it was to fight bad guys when your junk was bouncing all over the place. She'd woken up the next morning snuggled with her alpha on the old couch in the workshop while Jarvis finished up fabrication of a prototype.

She'd stripped off her shirt right then and there and grabbed at the bra. Tony had blinked for a second then helped her fit the garment with the swift, deft touch of a cool professional. She'd cooked him breakfast in return and almost choked on her Syrniki with powdered sugar and strawberries when he admitted off hand that the vodka had cost a cool 1.3 million a bottle but it wasn't a problem because he'd gotten three as a gift when he'd bought a custom SUV which he summarily totaled two days later. He'd gotten out of the private hospital in Russia and had found the bottles waiting for him on the plane with a seriously pissed off Pepper. 

The bed dipped as she crawled her way up, dipping her head as she brushed her nose against Clint's flushed skin, breathing his scent in deep as she grounded herself on him. She didn't need a guide. The red room had beaten the need out of her a long time ago. None of their operatives would be slaves to biology if they could help it. The beatings had been painful; the cocktail of drugs even more so, burning through her body as she writhed, handcuffed to the dirty bed, sweating and groaning as the mistress watched to see if she would be one of the few who survived the night.

Morning had found her alive and sterile, with nothing left to her but Mother Russia and the next mission. Years later she had limped away from a burning Budapest with a half conscious Clint slung across her shoulder and realized that if anyone were to be her anchor it would be this crazy American who made medieval bows and arrows fucking cool again.

She licked at Clint's chest, straddling him as she dipped in and sampled his mouth. It was hot and wet and tasted like burgers and the bitter beer Phil liked to order. His erection pressed hot against her swell and she rocked herself against it. 

Clint hissed, caressing her hips and legs as he waited for her to make the next move. This was about her needs and he was happy that he could give her this. It's not that he and Phil weren’t a happy committed couple but it was more like he and his Tasha were partners of a different sort.

Phil never minded, always opening his arms when Tasha needed a hug or a snuggle in front of a warm fire. She would wrap herself up in a ratty blanket and press her nose into Phil's neck as he did his paperwork, one arm slung across her shoulders.

Clint had been born a normie, his brother had been one too. Almost everyone he'd known had been normies until he'd joined the circus. The acrobatic team had been a SnG pair. A husband and wife whose odd tendencies had first made him avoid them but after one night when Barney and Trick Shot had roughed him up something awful, the husband had made up an excuse about needing to talk to Clint about a new routine combining his marksmanship and their acrobatics and had taken him to their caravan where his wife had fed him thick hearty stew and warm milk and cleaned up his bruised face.

They had both died soon after that, during a difficult routine when some unfortunately yet perfectly timed flash photography had blinded the sentinel and they'd fallen to their deaths holding on to each other. Clint had mourned them in secret, Barney forever giving him a hard time about his taking a liking of them. After that, every city the circus stopped in, Clint would find the local library and read about the enhanced and the intricacies of the bond they shared.

By the time he'd met Tasha, he'd known enough about Sentinels to recognize one in distress. He never brought it up because she hadn't trusted him enough as yet, but he dropped hints for Coulson when she submitted her offiicial status as mundane. He couldn't stand for something to happen to her if some asshole handler made a decision in the field based on her status as a mundane and she zoned or God forbid, retreated internally and went catatonic. He'd heard of cases where the enhanced fell into that dark abyss and never found their way out, their bodies wasting away from starvation or stuck in some god awful hospice with the other vegetables.

Not his brilliant Tasha. 

So he set about to save her from herself. He worked hard to gain her trust, let her steal and wear his clothes in between missions, checked her diet for any triggers. When she tried to assimilate by ordering greasy American food, he would order sentinel friendly substitutes and then mock bully her into switching so that she could eat without gagging. 

He shopped for special laundry detergent and switched out the house cleaners, complained about Shield supplied sheets and switched them out for better ones. Bitched about city noises and brought over one of those obnoxious sleep therapy machines with frog noises and bird calls and all that fucking shit, ducking from her scathing gaze until they settled on the sounds of water. He read 'how to care for your sentinel' books bought second hand from thrift shops, memorized and then tossed into local donation bins the very same day.

Then Budapest came and went like a gunshot wound to the chest which Clint could testify to because he staggered out of there with an actual fucking gunshot wound to the fucking chest. They'd laid up for two weeks in a small cabin just outside of Sztrilich Pál Cserkészpark, while Clint sweated out a small infection when Tasha softly confessed her true status. Clint had played it cool, offering quiet, comfortable acceptance and lay still while she'd pressed and trembling nose into his neck and breathed deeply.

Hell, he may not have been born a Guide, but he could very well be a guiding light to a Sentinel who needed it.

He ran soothing hands up and down her flank as she continued to rock her heat against his weeping cock. She leaned over him, grabbing onto the head board and grasped his cock, guiding it to her fold. Her breast swung above him like ripe fruit and he pushed upward to suck one of her achingly hard nipples into his mouth, working his tongue playfully around the pink areola.

Natasha shuddered and let Clint’s hands support her weight as she eased back unto his cock, inch after inch of hard flesh disappearing inside her. She sat back with a trembling breath, fully seated on him; letting her body accommodate his girth. He let out a soft sigh like music to her ears as his cock throbbed deep within her. She knows that he won’t move until she does, that he’ll stay hard inside her, gently petting with his calloused hands, tracing fingertips in patterns on her skin until she’s so aroused and ready for more.

She grabs the back of his head and leans down to kiss him deeply then pushing her elf up from his chest, she begins to move. At first just tiny little rocks and rolling her hips then she ‘s bracing her hands on his pecs and pushing herself up on her knees then sinking back down with a deeper roll of her hips. 

His hands cup her breasts, his thumbs pressing and rolling her nipples as she fucks herself up and down his shaft. He doesn't fuck up into her until she opens her eyes and gives him the signal. Then he braces his feet on the bed, holds on to her waist and snaps his hips up lowly at first, gaining speed as she rolls her hips wider and meets his every thrust with a trembling in her knees.

Being with Clint like this steals her sanity. It is only here that she can come undone, that she can let her body can silence her mind. Her endless years of training falls away and biology rules her. This is as close as she will ever get to bonding. As close as she would ever let herself get to fulfilling that biological urge.

She comes with a shudder, clenching around his pistoning cock with her Kegel muscles until he is grunting softly and cumming inside of her. She lets herself collapse upon his chest, her ear right over his heart, breathing the scent of their joining until he softens and slips out of her. 

Clint manhandles her pliant form into the bathroom and they bathe each other before stepping out and patting each other dry with large fluffy towels. He gives her a look when she steals his old ‘Dude, where’s my Car?’ t-shirt and a pair of Phil’s basketball shorts.

She shrugs on a hoodie that looks suspiciously like the striped one he’d seen Stark wearing recently but still he makes no comment. This is what Natasha sees as home. Who the fuck is he to say anything against it?

Phil is sitting in his favourite corner of the large white couch in Natasha’s suite, his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, his jacket slung across the back of it. He has his readers on and his flipping through the report that she and Stark had compiled for when the news about Bucky came back conclusive in one way or another. He looked up at them both with a fondness that made warmth bloom in Natasha’s chest.

“Do I smell cake?” Clint blurts before anyone else can talk. Phil smiles and nods toward the table where a tray and two covered dishes sat.

“I managed to save you some. Apparently Barnes and Jarvis are baking buddies, Stark and Rogers have bonded and Jarvis has discovered the art of throwing shade.” He sits back and rests his arm along the back of the couch, “… apparently a lot has happened since I’ve been gone.”

Clint nods vigorously, his mouth almost black with masticated cake. “No shit.”

Natasha makes a face at Clint’s bad manners and settles into the crook of Phil’s arm, snuggling against his side. He presses a kiss to her damp hair and she knows that he understands why he only finding out about the Barnes situation only now. Phil may be an honorary avenger but ultimately he was part of the SHIELD pack, its Alpha even though he was a mundane. 

To Natasha, the Avengers was a pack unto itself and Stark its Alpha. As a Sentinel, Bucky was a matter to be dealt with within the pack before any outsider could be brought in. Now that they knew how Barnes had emerged and Tony no longer had to compete with Barnes for Steve’s attention, it was time to let the rest of the team know and that included Phil.

Natasha closed her eyes and pressed her nose into Phil’s neck. His after shave mixed with gun oil and the recycled air of the Bus greets her and she smiles in contentment. She lets herself feel at utter peace for a few moments before frowning.

“If you touch that piece of cake Barton I will you will regret it, I assure you it will not be pretty. There will be crying and begging.”

She hears more than sees Clint set the second silver cover back onto the plate. 

“I bet I could get half this slice in my mouth before you can get to me. I’m sure I could take whatever you dish out if it means another slice of heaven.”

She pins him with a glare. “Eight words Barton. Black and white foreign films…”

“That’s not so bad”

“… in original Russian.”

A fork clatters against the glass table top. “Awww fuck no”

Phil chuckles into her hair, softly whispering so that only she can hear.

“That’s my girl.”

Natasha smiles.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve was a worrier. He had always been a worrier. Ever since he was a young boy with a newly widowed mother. He never really worried for himself, even though he was always sickly and wheezed after running across the street, he always for others around him. If Steve Rogers cared about you in any way… chances were good that he worried about you. He worried about his mother, about Bucky, about Bucky's ma. 

He worried little Betty Timmerson from apartment 3C who sat on his stoop and cried when her parents fought like cats and dogs. He worried about old man Bianchi who came from Palermo with his weak heart, who sat in a chair in front of his barber shop every day and handed out Amaretti cookies to the neighbourhood kids. Steve had kept his childhood secrets in one of those iconic red tins until the day he left for Project Rebirth.

He didn't worry so much as to get an ulcer but more like he was 'aggressively concerned'. Some would call it being a mother hen. Steve didn't agree but he got how it could get to be a bit overbearing for the target of his concern. Steve often bore heavy ribbing from the other commandos during the war, brushing it off as his duty as commander. Bucky always bore it as best as he could, having known Steve and his idiosyncrasies since the age of skinned knees and stick ball in the streets. He endured having Steve subtly check him over before and after combat, smiling fondly as Steve's Guide aspect brushed over him like a loose hug.

So to say that he was worried now was a given. He wasn't just an un-bonded guide anymore. He and Tony weren't just Ironman and Captain America but a bonded pair, part of a new leadership dynamic. He knew that there were bound to be growing pains because even though bonding seemed to mellow him out completely as a guide, his view on leadership and conflict resolution differed greatly from Tony's. Heck. Ironman barely listened to orders on a good day, what would happen when his supporting role in the Avengers clashed with his Sentinel imperative as Steve's bonded.

It was times like this when he wished that there was someone on the team with more leadership and military command experience than him. Granted, he'd led men in World War II but the Howling Commandos had been an unconventional team at best. The Avengers even more so. The only person who had actual military experience was Falcon and that stretching it because most of his specialist training was in being aerial support.

Rhodes was a good commander and had seen much more actual combat than Steve plus he also had more field experience and looked good on paper for the lead position. In real life though Steve wondered if Rhodes would be a good fit as leader of the Avenger. Sure, he knew how to wrangle Tony but there was a difference between herding one cat and herding several. 

The Avengers were too eclectic, too unique to follow a stricter authoritative structure. Barton and Romanov were too accustomed to working on their own. Hulk was live hand grenade. Thor was basically the foreign reserves and Tony was the epitome of civilian contractor. None of those followed the chain of command very well.

The team was like one of those mechanical spiders he'd seen being built in college labs on You Tube, it looked like a hot mess with all its moving parts, awkward legs and gizmos sticking all which way, but in the end it got across the table. All he could do was his best to lead his rag tag team and hope that together they could some real good for the world.

He was also worried about Bucky, even more so now that his status as a sentinel had been revealed. Though he didn't appreciate Stark and Romanov as well as Dr. Banner keeping this from him, he understood how telling him beforehand would have skewed the results. He would have hated keeping such a secret from Bucky and his anxiety would have affected his brother's tenuous state of mind. If he'd told Bucky what he knew, the strain of yet another potential thing that Hydra had forced on him could have crushed his already psyche even further.

At least they knew now that Bucky was a sentinel and the unknown wasn't hanging over their heads like a pendulum. They just had to figure out what to do now. As a sentinel, Bucky would be called to register with the local SnG Centre, but as the Winter Soldier and the first non-naturally born Sentinel in recorded existence, it was not just as simple as that. 

The world security Council would want to get involved… so would the World SnG Guild. To have that happen would not be pretty. Not for anyone because the moment any of the 'powers that be' tried to put pressure on his brother and pack mate, they would see what Steve Rogers was truly like when backed into a corner.

With all these things running circles in his mind; Steve sighed into his third slice of cake, shoveling a fork full of bliss into his mouth as Bucky and Sam talked about recipes, emoji and if one of the text messages on Sam's phone could be labelled a 'booty call'. Steve didn't really know when that last part of the conversation started up. 

Probably when Coulson and breezed though and left bearing large hunks of cake for Natasha and Clint. The sight of which left Steve feeling strangely bereft at the sad looking slice left behind. Then, proving that he was a man who planned ahead, Bucky brought a next, fully frosted cake out of the chiller and placed a large slice on Steve's plate like a birthing nurse handing a newborn to its mother.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Tony's low murmur was accompanied by fingertips up his spine and Steve wriggled on his high bar stool. Stark was relaxed and sleep happy as he swiveled from side to side on his stool, sipping on fresh coffee. His eyes were bright with laughter as he listened to Bucky and Sam banter as they cleaned up the kitchen. He hooked a bare foot unto the base of Steve's chair and skootched closer on his seat, leaning over to press a soft kiss on Steve' bare shoulder.

"You got that 'Captain America's judging your dubious life choices' look on your face"

Tony swiped a finger into Steve's cake frosting and stuck it in his mouth. Steve squirmed in his seat and flushed pink. He made a face.

"I have certain looks?" he asked the room in general.

"Oh Please Cap…" Sam chuckled, "… You are the King of giving looks." Tony and Bucky both nodded in silent agreement.

"There's the 'Captain America needs you to watch your language buddy' " Bucky offered.

Sam grinned and pointed. "Yeah… and the 'Captain America doesn't understand this newfangled doo-dad'"

Bucky cackled. "Captain America can do this all day"

"Captain America doesn't understand this century"

"Captain America woke up like this"

"Captain America will put it on the list"

Tony laughed, "And the piece du resistance…. 'Captain America is disappointed in you."

Steve his blushing red by the time they are done, his face, neck and chest burning crimson and he ducks his head.

Bucky loses his smile. "Stevie… you ok?"

Sam straightens up "Yeah man… we didn't mean anything by it."

Tony is there, pressed against his side, a cool hand on his burning neck moving lower to rub comfort down his spine.

"Babe… Look at me." A finger tilts Steve's chin up to meet burning dark eyes and soft lips press against his. " We love you, every part of you. Look who you're talking to… 'On-Your-Left', the Terminator and a Shell head with a built-in night light. We're all basically walking memes, all of us. This just proves that you're as much a part of this nut house as the rest of us oh brave and noble Leader. Do we need to start chanting 'one of us… one of us' to prove our point?"

Steve shook his head with a shy smile. "No." He looks up through thick lashes to see Sam and Bucky smiling at him and leans into Tony.

"it IS kinda funny though, I must admit." he confesses, grinning as Sam and Bucky laugh and start cleaning again, crisis averted.

Tony's hand steals around his waist and the other comes up to rest on his thigh, caressing his cock through his snug, worn thin jeans. Tony's breath is hot against Steve's neck as his hands moves further up his leg.

"I love how you look in my jeans. So hot." he nips at the skin behind Steve's ear and the blond shivers and arches his back. The jeans are starting to feel a bit tighter and he squirms again on the stool. His nipples pebble in the chill of the A/C combined with the heat of Tony's body so close to his. Steve swallows heavily, his breath hitching as he turns his head to snag his lips to Tony's.

Bucky groans loudly and they startle and jump apart, Steve flushing as he'd forgotten that they were not alone. Tony swallowed a low growl and grabbed his coffee cup, leaning his elbows on the marble counter top. 

"Got a problem Barnes?"

Bucky threw the dish cloth into the sink, turning around with his hands on his hips to give them a flat unimpressed stare.

"It's bad enough that you're walking around looking like jailbait with those painted on jeans but do you have to torture those of us who are terminally single with your soft core porn right here in the common areas? We have to eat here Steve. We also have to look you in the eye in the morning man. Have some mercy on the rest of us."

Steve blinked and looked down at his jeans. "The jeans are Tony's. Are they that tight though?"

He stood up and twisted around, trying to look at his butt. Sam chuckled,

"Dude, we can see the stars AND the stripes. You should have seen Coulson's face when he came through earlier. I thought his eyes would bug out of his head. Not to mention you were practically performing sexual favours on fork full of cake. It was like something out of the Dear Penthouse letters. You do realize that he never made eye contact with you after that… just got the hell out of Dodge."

Steve didn't think he could be more mortified than he was at that very moment. He could feel his face heating up and spun on his heels, pausing to grab his cake and beat feet from the common room, bypassing the way to the penthouse and making for his own quarters. 

He flopped unto his bed with a groan, sitting up against the head board and pulling his feet up closer to his butt. He balanced the plate of cake unto his belly and scooped a mouthful into his mouth, chewing grumpily. He wriggled his toes into the soft bedspread as he rode out his embarrassment.

He’d always taken care to be polite and respectful to others. To some he may have come across as uptight or old fashioned but he’d been brought up that way by his ma. Even after waking up in the future, he’d striven to keep his social and moral queues grounded in his past, in his Brooklyn upbringing. He’d loosened up some but still maintained a sense of propriety that often got him teased. 

To think that he’d acted so brazenly in front of a man who he respected, and one who certainly admired him made Steve puff out a harsh breath and shove more cake into his mouth. Gosh he needed a cigarette badly but really didn’t want to head up to the roof to scrounge for his last ciggy and cheap lighter. He forked the last of the cake into his mouth and slid the plate unto the bedside table, rolling unto his side and curling his massive frame into a near fetal position. 

He’s not sure how long he lay there before two small thumps on the bed bring him out of his funk. Next to him lay a small black box and a smaller silver box. The black box said Djarum Black and the silver one turned out to be a shiny silver lighter with the Howling Commando crest engraved on one side and the initials TDDH on the other. Tony followed the items with a flop, curling Steve’s side with a happy little sigh. 

“I smoked a lot when I was younger. Well tried to anyway. Gagged on half, couldn't even stand the smoke of the other half. It wasn't until I was partying out on a yacht in the Indian ocean… sweet sixteen bash for the twin daughters of a certain Asian steel magnate who shan't be named for legal purposes. Just turned eighteen and had the first of my trust funds opened to me.

I don’t remember much of the party. Just that there was a lot of booze and a lot of sex. I do remember this friend of the friend who invited me was smoking these cigarettes and me not wanting to barf up my caviar. I still could not smoke it by I can tolerate the smell well enough.”

Tony snuggled against Steve’s side and picked up the lighter and flipped it over and closed in his nimble fingers. Steve snuffled at Tony’s wild hair and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer.

“The lighter was part of Dum Dum’s estate that had been set to be auctioned off to raise funds for his family. Their little girl needed medical treatment that snowballed into bankruptcy. When Howard found out he bought the entire lot, even going so far as to pay off the little girl’s bills anonymously. 

It was things like that made me not write my old man off completely. Even though it turned out that he did it so that he wouldn't have to someday face you and tell you that he’d seen and had done nothing for one of your people. He’d still been searching for you every summer at that point. In the end I guess it doesn't really matter why he did it but that in the end a good family got saved in a big way and a little girl got the help she needed.”

He raised his head and rested his chin on Steve’s chest. “I met her once… Briana Dugan. One time I was giving a talk at MIT, she was getting her PhD in aerodynamics. We ended up having lunch in the school cafeteria and having an impromptu group discussion in the middle of the place. Over thirty students and faculty pitching ideas and arguing concepts for over an hour. She was incredible. Dynamic and charismatic and hot as burning… I mean her mind was amazing…. I wanted to snuggle with her brain.”

Steve chuffed a laugh. He looked down at the little black box. “So you don’t mind? The smoking?” 

Tony furrowed his brow and propped himself up on his elbows. “Bonding to a sentinel doesn’t mean everything has to change. The guide is not the only who should compromise. You only smoke once in a while as far as I can tell from the roof footage, any harmful effects would be immediately negated by the serum. You only smoke up on the rook so second hand smoke is not an issue and I got around the smell by getting you these.”

Tony shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. “It’s clear that it’s more than just about the cigarettes for you Steve. It’s a ritual of some sort’ something that you need. I’ll never deny you something that you need Steve.”

Steve’s breath caught in his chest. He quickly placed the box and lighter on the bedside table and rolled over, pinning Tony to the bed.

“Sentinel” he breathed, claiming Tony’s mouth like a starving man.

“Guide” Tony panted when Steve pulled away. “I love you.”

Steve blinked in shock, staring into Tony’s dazzling dark eyes at the hushed confession. Even though Bonding was a good as a lifetime commitment, he hadn't expected them to get to this point quite so soon. Seconds pass and just as Tony started to fidget, a vulnerable look creeping unto his face, Steve smiled and dipped in for a slow, searching kiss. 

“I love you too.”

Tony blinked suspiciously shiny eyes and blushed so prettily that Steve moaned and delved into his lover’s hot wet mouth. They make love this time, stripping each other with gently kisses and sighs against bare skin. Touching and sucking at each other’s erogenous zones, rocking against each other slow and intense until they were shuddering through orgasm.

Steve kissed his way down Tony’s chest, pausing to look up at his sentinel as he lay boneless on the pillows. “How do you feel about penetration? Receiving.”

Tony chuckled lazily. “I’m all for pitching. I’ve never had the nerve to catch though. Too afraid I would zone out from the stimuli. Never trusted anyone to bring me out of it or if they couldn’t… I couldn’t trust them not to do something to me in such a state.”

Steve pressed a kiss to the hollow of Tony’s hip. “I’d like to do… that…. with you. If you want.”

Tony squirmed and licked his lips, “What do you want Steve? You have to tell me what you want.”

“I want…” Steve stumbled over the words’ “I want to fuck you.”

Tony inhaled sharply. “Yeah? … what else?””

Steve licked into Tony’s belly button, drawing a moan from the man. “I want to c…. cum inside you.”

Tony grunted. “Uh huh… okay. I can dig that.” he spread his legs a little wider, “I trust you Steve.”

Steve’s heart pounded in his ears as he scrambled to his knees, reaching over into a drawer and pulling out a tube of lube. He takes his time stretching Tony with his fingers as Tony hissed and squirmed on his curling fingers. Soon enough Steve found a spot that had Tony bucking half off the bed with a cry. 

“Christ. That’s it right there Steve. Do that again.” He panted, arching his back into the pleasure. 

Steve lines himself up and pushes into Tony’s ass with a bitten back moan, working his way deeper with short steady thrusts; each one taking him deeper. Tony arches against the intrusion, bracing his feet against the bed as his breath comes in short gasps.

Steve grunts once Tony is seated fully on his cock, lifting his lover’s legs to wrap around his waist as he braces his hands on either side of Tony’s head. Staring into his lover’s wide and emotion filled eyes, he takes a moment to brush against their thrumming bond.

“You ready?” he asked one more time. 

Tony gulped and nodded shakily, a fine tremble his toned and tanned body. His arc reactor shone in the centre of his chest, a spider web of scars radiating from it like an intricate piece of art. Steve marveled at his lover sprawled below him on the white sheets, his olive skin marked and scars mapping the experiences of his life. His dark hair wild like a halo around his head, his eyes wide and burning with desire. 

He looked like a debauched angel and it took Steve’s breath away. He wanted to draw Tony so bad right now but couldn't bear the thought of pulling away to do so. He’d just have to burn this sight into his brain and draw it from memory later.

Tony shuddered and put a hand on Steve’s chest. “I’m gonna need you to move there buddy.”

Steve huffed a laugh and started pistoning his hips, drawing surprised little mewls from Tony. Breathing heavily through clenched teeth, Steve picked up the pace, thrusting balls deep into his lover with the slick slap of flesh on flesh.

Tony reached up to grasped Steve’s forearms, eyes rolling back in his head as he inhaled deeply. He shuddered, giving a deep rambling moan filled with ‘I love you’s, oh God’s and harder’s, losing words altogether when Steve shifted angle and started hitting his prostate with relentless strokes. 

Tony’s dark eyes shone behind slitted lids, his plump reddened lips hanging open as he panted deeply. Steve added a roll to his hips that had Tony snarling and bucking up off the bed as he came hard with a cry. Steve followed soon after, pumping his seed deep inside his lover with a shout.

He finally pulled out with a hissed breath and collapsed on his back next to Tony, looking over at his blissed out lover as he tried to get his own racing heart to calm. 

“So…” Steve grinned, his forget me not blue eyes alight with mischief. “… how was that Mr. Stark?”

Tony gave him a sly grin. “That’ll do Pig… That’ll do.”

Steve poked Tony in the side, laughing as he yelped and twisted away. “Asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i ended it here because of the challenge deadline but i intend to do another story which deals with Bucky and the SnG Centre finding out.


End file.
